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Abra admiration allegorical ANTISTROPHE appear bard beautiful blank verse blest boast breathe character charm Chichester Circassia Collins's Colonel Martin CYMBELINE death delight demyship drest E'en Eclogues expression eyes fair fame Fancy Fear feel fix'd flowers fond genius grace Gray grief grove hair hand happy harmony heart hope hour imagery imagination inspired isle Johnson Joseph Warton lived lyre Magdalen College magic maid merit midst mind moral Muse myrtles native nature numbers Nymph o'er Oxford passions pastoral Pity Pity's plain poems poet poet's poetical poetry Queen's College racter rage Richard Collins rove royal Abbas scene sentiment shade Shakespeare shepherds SIR THOMAS HANMER sister song Sophocles sound stanza strain sublime sullen sung swain sweet taste tears tender thee Theocritus Thomas Warton Thomson thou thought tion toil truth vale VARIATIONS verse virtue Warton wild William Collins writing written youth
Page 63 - Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Page lxxiii - Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to faun and dryad known...
Page 52 - Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut That, from the mountain's side, Views wilds and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires ; And hears their simple bell ; and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Page 11 - Schiraz' walls I bent my way." At that dead hour the silent asp shall creep, If aught of rest I find, upon my sleep : Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, And wake to anguish with a burning wound. Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor, From lust of wealth, and dread of death secure! They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find ; Peace rules the day, where reason rules the mind. " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
Page 51 - For when thy folding-star arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene, Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams.
Page 51 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
Page 36 - She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Page 90 - No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew; The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew ! The red-breast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
Page 10 - Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow : Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands, are found ; And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around. ' Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,